Maine
Most of my days in Portland are cold
And the records we play have gotten old
I still find myself visiting the coast of Maine
Nothing’s new, except this feeling of pain
Everyday, I miss you
And the records we play have gotten old
I still find myself visiting the coast of Maine
Nothing’s new, except this feeling of pain
Everyday, I miss you
♠ ♠ ♠
The weather today lead to this acrostic poem being written.